


Where Is My Mind?

by cybercandy



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: (almost) sibling incest, Bandom_Holidays2013, Early Days, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:25:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybercandy/pseuds/cybercandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His head is pounding and he’s got no fucking idea what has happened. Or where he is. Or who the hell those people are.</p><p>OR: Mikey looses his memory while on tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Is My Mind?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annemari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/gifts).



> A million thanks to my amazing beta!

“Do you think he’s ok?” someone asks.

“Does it look like he’s ok?” another voice huffs back.

“Maybe we should slap him? What, they do that in the movies,” a third voice suggests.

There’s a hand brushing hair off his forehead and someone’s shaking him gently.

“Mikey, come on, open your eyes” the voice pleads.

Wait… who the hell is Mikey? He takes a deep breath and carefully opens his eyes. The sun’s high in the sky and he’s momentarily blinded by the light, but once his eyes have adjusted he’s staring into the faces of three strangers that look like they’ve come straight out of the book of Punk Rock 101. They look worried, although the third dude, small, dark haired and very tattooed, mostly looks guilty. 

A quick inventory reveals that he’s alive. If the perspective and the warm smell of asphalt is anything to go by, he’s lying flat on the ground in a street somewhere. He doesn’t seem to be badly hurt, although his head is pounding and he’s got no fucking clue what has happened. Or where he is. Or who the hell those people are.

“Shit, I really wanted to slap him,” tattooed guy mumbles disappointedly.

“Fuck off, Frank, we were not going to slap him,” the guy kneeling down next to Mikey says. He’s pale, greasy black hair hanging into his face, and he’s pretty, really pretty.

“What… happened,” he tries, only to start coughing which sends a spike of pain through his head.

“You got knocked out by Frank’s guitar case. Do you think you can get up?” the black-haired guy asks.

“Um, Gee, maybe we need to make sure nothing’s broken first? Or if he’s go a head injury” comes from stranger number three, who’s got a surprisingly high voice for such a big guy. Plus he’s either got a halo or his face is framed by the most impressive explosion of curls ever.

“Hmm... how many fingers am I holding up?” The dark haired guy, apparently named Gee, asks and holds up his hand.

“Five?” he answers. 

“No, Mikey, the thumb’s not a finger.” Gee giggles, and turns to the curly-haired dude. “See, Ray, he’s good.”

Mikey. I'm Mikey. Somehow, it feels right. He looks at the other dudes. Gee, curly-haired Ray, tattooed Frank. He’s pretty sure he knows these guys, they sure as hell seem to know him, but right now his mind isn’t particularly forthcoming with any information. A wave of panic flashes through him. What if they’ve abducted him? Maybe they just found him on the street? But reason kicks in pretty quickly. If they’d kidnapped him they would've dragged him back to the van and they’re far too friendly to be just strangers.

“Do you know where you are?” Ray asks.

“Hey, no trick questions, even I don’t know where the fuck we are,” Frank throws in.

“Parking lot?” Mikey mumbles. He can see a lot of parked cars.

“He’s ok,” Gee confirms, “Come on, let’s get you upright.” 

It’s a combined effort of Ray and Gee pulling Mikey up, while Frank stands back and watches. For a brief moment everything goes blurry and Mikey fears he’s going to black out again. Then the world comes back into focus and he’s upright, even if he’s leaning kinda heavily on Gee and the drill in his head has revved up a few notches.

“My head hurts,” Mikey mutters.

“You’ve got a pretty impressive bump on it, too” Frank remarks and reaches out to touch Mikey’s head.

“Get your hands off him. It’s all your fault” Gee says accusingly. 

“Hey, I managed to fit everything into the trailer…” Frank answers.

“Yeah, but you didn’t secure shit” Ray points out.

“I DID. The amp must’ve come loose when _you_ hit that pothole, “ Frank pouts.

“Then you should’ve secured it _better_ ,” Ray says. “I’ve seen you fuck off to score some weed, if anything’s broken because you’re a fucking stoner you’re a dead man.”

“It’s fine, Mikey cushioned the fall pretty well with his body,” Frank grins, which gains him a scowl from Gee. 

“What?! I really did nothing wrong. Not this time, at least. And I really don’t know why he opened the trailer in the first place,” Frank mutters. Mikey honestly can’t help him with that, he hopes there was a reason why he was going through their stuff.

“Let’s get him out of the sun,” Ray suggests when Mikey sways and moans. ‘Out of the sun’ apparently is a code for Starbucks and five minutes later Mikey is nestled into a comfy armchair, a cup filled with ice pressed against his head and Gee by his side.

Frank’s grudgingly stayed behind to pack up the trailer again and Ray is in line to get drinks. Apart from the guys he’s already met there is also a fourth person everybody refers to as Otter who no one has seen since they have parked. Mikey would really like to know what is going on, where he is and who the fuck these people are, but Gee still looks so shaken and genuinely concerned that Mikey can’t bring himself to say anything. Maybe his memory will come back by itself, and, if he’s careful and stays quiet, the others won’t even notice.

So he just sits back and listens to them talk, taking sips of his coffee and resting his head against Gee’s shoulder. It seems they’re a band and on their way to play a gig and Mikey thinks ‘holy fuck, I’m a rockstar’ for exactly as long as it takes him to figure out that they’re in a very public place and there’s no security around them. Also, there’s a distinct lack of screaming fans and no one seems to be interested in his autograph. And his band, at least he assumes he’s part of them, is touring in a sprinter van. A van that, once he’s inside it, smells and looks like five guys with questionable hygiene standards have been living in it for weeks. But he _is_ in a band and they’re good enough to play gigs, so that counts for something. 

He’s always wanted to be in a band.

Two hours later they pull into the parking lot of a grimy bar and everyone explodes in a flurry of activity. Mikey does as he’s told, carries the things he’s given and it’s only when they’re in the dingy, damp-smelling closet that moonlights as their dressing room that he realises he doesn’t even know what instrument he’s playing. And, even worse, if he’ll actually be able to play it. 

His first question is answered when Frank hands him a beer and a white and brown bass with the words, “You might wanna tune that”. The beer does nothing to calm his nerves, so he gets another one and sits down, trying to remember how to tune a fucking bass. Half an hour later Mikey’s more than slightly drunk, and a nervous wreck, but he’s not as bad off as Gee who’s so shitfaced that Ray all but carries him up the stairs to the stage.

The gig probably isn’t one of their best, but apparently playing bass is like riding a bike or something, and after Mikey has fumbled his way through the first few chords he’s fine. Gee’s too drunk to remember the words to at least two songs and Frank knocks over part of the drum set, so all things considered Mikey’s lack of memory definitely isn’t to blame for them getting kicked out of the venue as soon as they’re done packing up their stuff. They’ve got plenty of time before they have to hit the road again and with nowhere to go, they end up in a diner. Gee has sobered up enough to be hungry but keeps nodding off against Mikey, head lolling against Mikey’s shoulder and his hand a warm presence on Mikey’s thigh. Frank keeps shooting them weird looks from across the table, and Mikey would really like to know why. Maybe there is something going on between those two, but Gee’s been glued to Mikey’s side all day and he’s one handsy motherfucker. Whatever there is, or has been, Gee seems to be more into Mikey right now. And Mikey would totally hit that, because underneath the greasy hair and dirty clothes, Gee’s pretty hot.

Sleeping in a van is pretty damn uncomfortable, but Mikey’s beat enough and still buzzing from the beers to pass out eventually. He wakes up when they pull into a truck stop, slumped against Gee with a crick in his neck and his face dangerously close to Gee’s armpit. Gee’s face is pressed against the window, mouth hanging open and he doesn’t wake up, just shuffles around a bit, when Mikey extracts himself and scrambles out to take a piss. 

“Head feeling better?” Ray asks when Mikey returns from the filthy restrooms. He’s sitting with his back against a tire, sandwich in one, coffee in the other hand.

“Yeah. Enjoying the coffee?” Mikey mumbles. He can tell that mornings aren’t his strong point and he’s still got the shadow of a headache, although he’s not sure if that’s still from hitting his head, a hangover or caffeine withdrawal. He’s hoping the coffee he’s got in the shop will help if it’s the latter.

“Coffee’s shit, but it’s coffee” Ray sighs. Mikey can only nod his agreement. Mornings, he decides, are not friends. They happen too fucking early.

He’s half-way finished his coffee when he hears a curse, followed by Gee shouting, “Ow, motherfucker, get off me!” Frank comes tumbling out of the van, followed by a very dishevelled and sleepy looking Gee.

“Coffeeeee” Frank screams, launching himself at Ray who puts a protective hand over his cup, growling, “Get your own, you coffee-stealing freak.” 

Gee is making grabby hands with his eyes closed and he looks so pitiful that Mikey offers him his cup.

“Did Mikey just give his coffee to Gee?” Frank stage-whispers to Otter, who’s in the driver’s seat and texting furiously.

“Must’ve hit his head harder than we thought,” Otter mumbles. Gee tentatively opens one eye and whispers, “Thank you”, clinging to the cup like his life’s depending on it. Mikey buries the hope of getting his coffee back and is contemplating getting another one when Otter looks up from his phone and announces, “Got us a place to crash tonight.”

“Awesome,” Ray replies.

“Showers!!!” Frank exclaims.

“Beds?” Gee asks hopefully.

“All of that. We’ll go there after the gig tonight,” Otter confirms.

 

The gig goes better than their last one. Gee’s decidedly less drunk, even if it’s just because Ray found his alcohol stash and hid it away. Frank doesn’t go near the drum kit, because Otter made it pretty clear that if Frank happens to his kit again, something very painful will happen to Frank. Mikey’s still terrified about going on stage, but at least he knows he can play, and things take an unexpected upward turn when Gee walks over to where Mikey’s standing and runs his fingers over Mikey’s back.

The place they are crashing at is only a short drive away. As soon as they get there Otter mumbles something about catching up with old friends and disappears with their host, leaving the rest of them to their own devices. Frank calls dibs on first shower, Ray claims second, Mikey’s third and Gee gets send to the shower by majority vote and under Ray’s threat to tie him to the roof if he doesn’t get rid of more than a week’s worth of dirt and sweat right the fuck now.

Two hours later they’re clean and full of pizza that someone has ordered. Gee’s had a look through their host’s DVD collection, which is pretty damn good, and put on some slasher movie. Mikey’s pretty sure he’s seen it before but he really doesn’t mind watching it again. The weed Frank scored is good shit and the post-gig endorphins have worn off enough for exhaustion to set in. 

Mikey’s mellow from the weed and he’s sharing the sleeper couch with Gee because they do that kind of thing. He’s turned on in a pleasantly lazy way, not hard but he could get there in a second flat if he got a hand on his dick. The room is dark except for the flicker of the TV screen, Frank is a softly snoring pile of blankets in the armchair and Ray’s stretched out on the airbed their host has provided. They’ve unfolded the couch and are half-sitting, half-lying, propped up on some pillows to get a better view of the TV. Gee’s got his arm around Mikey’s shoulder, his fingers ghosting over Mikey’s neck and shoulder every so often. It makes goosebumps run over all over Mikey’s body and heat coil in his groin and Mikey could just leave it at that, let himself drift off into sleep and jack off tomorrow morning in the bathroom. He could, but there’s Gee right next to him, on something that’s _almost_ a bed, smelling of some floral shower gel, so close that Mikey can feel the body heat radiating through his t-shirt and Mikey _wants_. Wants to touch, wants to rub against him, just plain wants. Gee’s eyes are fixed on the tv screen, one leg drawn up, other hand resting on his stomach. He looks relaxed, sleepy, but there’s a tension strung through his body that tells a different story. 

Mikey shuffles down a bit, turning towards Gee so that his hips are almost, but not quite, touching Gee’s thigh. Gee’s still looking at the TV like he didn’t notice, but his breath hitches and when Mikey looks down he sees the bulge in Gee’s ratty sleep pants, barely visible in the dim light but definitely there.

Sleep, Mikey decides, can wait a little longer.

Gee’s not doing anything, but he’s also not stopping Mikey, which is all the encouragement Mikey needs. His fingers are tracing patterns over Mikey’s shoulders and back, breathing gone shallow. Mikey lets his hips brush against Gee’s, light enough that it could pass as accidental, but hard enough that Gee feels that Mikey’s _interested_. Gee makes a noise that’s a little surprised and a lot turned-on and he sucks in sharp breath when Mikey starts rocking against him, hard dick pushing against Gee’s side. It feels amazing, it’s just enough friction that Mikey could come like this. If he has to. He’s hoping he doesn’t have to, that there’s going to be more and fuck yeah, Gee’s turning towards him now. Mikey hooks one leg over, pulling closer, feeling Gee’s fingers dig into his skin and holding him there. They’re pressed against each other, finding an easy rhythm, and Mikey doesn’t look up, just keeps moving, faster and with purpose. 

He does his best to keep quiet, doesn’t want to wake the others. His nerve endings are on fire, focussed on Gee’s fingers on his skin, the way his cock rubs against his own. He’s about to slide one hand underneath Gee’s t-shirt, run his fingers over bare skin, when Gee suddenly freezes.

“Mikey… we’ve got to stop… we can’t…” he gasps quietly.

“They’re asleep, it’s dark… just let me…” Mikey whispers back. He only needs five more minutes, maybe two if someone would get a hand on his cock, he doesn’t want to stop, can’t, not now.

“No… fuuuuuuuuck… I really want to, wanted to forever… but we can’t, we gotta…” Gee moans into Mikey’s hair.

“Just like this, they won’t know, Gee, please…” Mikey begs. Three more minutes. Fuck, he’s close.

“Mikey, we can’t, it’s wrong... you’re my brother, we…” Gee whines. 

It’s like someone poured a bucket of cold water over Mikey. Something _clicks_ and everything suddenly makes a weird kind of sense. And it fucking hurts, because if Gee’s his brother he can't have him, can't even touch him, and suddenly he’s so busy scrambling away from Gee that he doesn’t realize that his feet get all tangled up in a blanket that’s been scrunched up on the bottom of the couch. 

The world tilts sideways and he’s falling, and for the second time in 48 hours, Mikey’s world goes black.

 

Mikey comes around to the sound of a loud slap and a sharp stinging pain spreading over the side of his face followed by Frank’s triumphant cry, “See, I told you it works!”. Mikey’s got to blink a few times before he sees clearly, all the lights in the room are on and Ray has got Frank in a headlock. Gerard, his _brother_ , is next to him on the floor, looking ruffled with his hair standing up in crazy angles.

“Owwww…” Mikey mumbles and rubs his cheek.

“Sorry, we couldn’t stop him fast enough,” Gerard says apologetically.

“It _did_ work,” Frank pouts.

Mikey tries to sit up, but quickly revises his plan when the world starts spinning. 

“I think we have to get him to an ER this time,” Ray says. “Hitting your head twice in such a short time can’t be good…”

“Otter’s got the keys,” Gerard points out.

“I’ll go get them…” Ray sighs and heads towards the bedroom they’d seen Otter disappear into earlier and returns mumbling “I really didn’t need to see this” under his breath. 

The ER of the local hospital is blessedly quiet and they only have to wait for an hour or two until Mikey gets called in. The doctor shines a light into Mikey’s eyes, gets him to move his arms and legs and examines the two pretty impressive bumps on Mikey’s head. He also questions Mikey about his memory, questions which Mikey answers as evasive as possible. They don’t have the money or time for expensive tests, and his memory’s back now, thank you very much. He’s not sure if the doctor believes him, but he lets him go with a prescription of painkillers and the promise that if he blacks out again or anything strange happens he’s coming straight back to the hospital.

Gerard’s face lights up, Ray gives him a wide smile and even Frank looks relieved when Mikey tells them he’s ok.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you had amnesia?” Gerard asks when they’re walking back to the van, Frank and Ray in front, Gerard trailing next to Mikey.

“Didn’t want to worry you… thought my memory would come back by itself…” Mikey answers.

“But it didn’t?” Gerard confirms.

“No. Not until I passed out again. Look, I’m sorry… I didn’t want to freak you out, I just… got the signals all mixed up, I guess,” Mikey says under his breath. They’ve stopped walking and Gerard’s reaching out to touch Mikey’s arm, but he stops half-way.

“It’s ok. You didn’t know.” Gerard sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Yeah. I… just… did you mean what you said earlier?” Mikey’s not sure he wants an answer to this question, but he’s got to know.

“When? In the hospital?” Gerard responds.

“No, when we were in bed, before I hit my head... again…”

“You remember that?” Gerard sounds surprised.

“Yeah. I remember. And… I don’t regret what we’ve done. I… if you want, we can… sometime... y’know…” It’s hard to make the words come out, Gerard’s is his brother, he shouldn’t still want him. But fact is, he does, and knowing that Gerard wants him too somehow makes it less wrong.

“Really?” Gerard asks softly.

“Yeah. I know it’s weird but… yeah…,” Mikey mumbles.

Gerard doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arm around Mikey’s shoulders and pulls him close. 

“Shotgun,” they hear Frank call. Mikey reluctantly lets go of Gerard, it felt good to have him this close again, and they continue their way to the van. Ray’s already in the driver’s seat, waiting for Gerard and Mikey to scramble into the back.

“Everyone alright?” Ray asks when he starts the engine.

“Yeah,” Mikey says softly and his stomach does a happy jump when Gerard threads his fingers into his own. He knows they need to talk about this. About them. About things he, they, want to do. It’s scary and a lot to figure out, and it's early in the morning, he’s tired and in the back of a van. But his best friend, his brother, and maybe, hopefully, his lover are there with him, and that makes everything alright.


End file.
